


lamb to the slaughter

by Mothervvoid



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Gen, Internal Monologue, POV Second Person, References to the Antarctic Empire, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Threats of Violence, no beta we die like schlatt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothervvoid/pseuds/Mothervvoid
Summary: Nine seconds to live. Cats with nine lives. Nine days to fall from Heaven to Earth.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	lamb to the slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i don't hate quackity im just really committed to the vitriol of techno's inner monologue. feat techno's hatred of the government. dream is there i guess.
> 
> title from grandson's blood // water and man did i have a TIME trying to title this sdkjkdfjghfddg

It takes nine seconds for the anvil to fall. You count, fingers wrapped tightly around the totem of undying stowed away deep in your cape. Nine seconds to live. Cats with nine lives. Nine days to fall from Heaven to Earth.

Nine seconds for the Butcher Army to hope for your death.

Then there is a resounding clang, metal-on-metal, not the sound of bone splintering and flesh squelching. The air is thick with the scent of iron, steel, and the quivering cries for the death of false gods. Woe unto he who thinks he can kill a God; however, because here you still stand, unmarred and very much still alive.

Quackity’s anguished shrieks become even louder, rage erupting in a cacophony of threats and incoherent swearing. Fundy and Tubbo’s own cries of confusion and anger are lost amongst the sea that was the Vice-President’s fury.

As you escape amid the chaos, beckoned by Dream, following his ever mysterious whims and direction; you can’t help the ugly smile that slowly works itself onto your face. All this from you. All this mayhem, all of this discord unfurls from you, like flakes of rust off a sword left to sit too long.

In the distance, you hear Philza’s cheering join the chorus. A choir of discord whose soloist sung of praise with the ugly cackle of; “Sucks to suck!”

You delight in the turmoil, and make a mental note to rescue your hidden sword later.

Dream says nothing, though something unspoken passes between the two of you, one Icon to another. Leads you down a tunnel and then leaves you there with your horse. He’s taken you this far, the rest is for you to figure out, and that suits you just fine, no matter how frantic you feel.

You’re coming apart at the seams, but you’ll lie about it later. There's a growing list of things you'll deny if brought up; your hands shaking, your heart pounding; and your fingers white-knuckling an old pickaxe you find on the ground. 

“What the _fuck_ is this, Technoblade?”

Quackity has seemingly manifested himself in the tunnel Dream led you down, standing at the precipice of the small room you were scrounging for supplies. God, he's a fucking menace and he continues proving _why_ as he stumbles through a monologue about what L'manberg 'needs'. It's all bullshit, power for power's sake. Vice President, President, Emperor, Dictator. They're all the same thing, and Quackity _keeps talking_ as if his words will make any difference to you.

It's all just useless word-vomit to you, like the time you threw up after returning to Antarctica with Philza. Babbling nonsense along with the voices as they brayed for blood like a rabid animal. That's all Quackity is. A rabid animal off his leash.

With clumsy florish, he finally brings his speech to a close with a fevered; "I'm going to fucking kill you, I'm going to kill you Technoblade."

Pickaxe in-hand, a toothy grin forms on your face. Words bubble over your lips before you can stop them, and the Blood God issues his threat.

“Do you really think _you’re_ enough to kill me, Quackity?”


End file.
